Enter the Dragon

I spoke with Rat Bastard G yesterday. It was another dimwitted conversation that we normally engage in on a periodic basis. Nothing of any real value except one nugget of information I gleened that I thought was a bit ironic.

It turns out that at the beginning of the year in the wee hours following his New Years Eve celebration, he had made a commitment to the year as one of the best he would ever have, a memorable milestone year in his life, a year upon which to look back and reflect upon and think, "Wow. what a year of accomplishment". I asked G what he was doing to facilitate and help himself to reach this designation and he replied, "nothing". He was simply going to let life come to him, hand him whatever it would, and them close the books on it December 31st and declare that 2012 was the year of the G. I thought that was a bit odd as I thought you have to live life fully rather than taking what life gives you, but no, G assured me that he was going to pull up his chaise lounge and just watch things parade past. He even told me that like the current Chinese lunar Year of the Dragon, he had taken it upon himself in his own vain manner to refer to it as the "Year of the Rat" and compose a song similar to one of our earlier Friday selections.

It will be interesting to see.  For the record, G was actually born under the Chinese symbol of the Rooster.  Before political correctness, this was always referred to as the Cock.  Dragon, Rat, Cat, Rooster, Cock.  I hope he doesn't get his symbolism mixed up.

Jukebox: That Lady could sure sing

We're hiring

It is with bittersweet feeling I write today's post.  My able bodied Assistant/Resident Trustee, Giacommo, has accepted a position outside of the area and will no longer be able to fulfill his duties here at FTI.  Of course, I hate to lose him as he has become, over the months, a trusted confidant of all things abnormal.  Generally, the little knucklehead has proven to be a reliable individual, though, persistent questions remain concerning his involvement in  this incident a while back and his ability to keep some matters confidential.  Regardless, I conducted an exit interview with him last night and wish him nothing but the best in his future endeavors. He has been a fine apprentice and is certainly ready to fly on his own.

My only question of his abilities are that I am not sure he is fully developed in the matter of keeping some subjects confidential. Last night was a good example. Somehow, some way, Gosh,-I-just-happened-to-be-in-the-neighborhood, -got-thirsty, -and-didn't-know-you-guys-were-here, Old Short Arms swoops in and joins us during the out-processing meeting. I didn't bring it up with Giacommo as it would be pointless at this juncture of his affiliation. True to form, however, the little miser was able to mooch a glass from the bartender, share in the pitcher of our ceremonial sacraments, score another round from a generous stranger, skillfully time his need to use the restroom just as the conversation lulls while the glasses are empty, and accomplish all of these tasks while only parting with $2 for a bowl of peanuts. In some ways, I am in awe. I don't know how he consistently does it.

Giacommo, I wish you good luck. I know you have the foundation, skillset, and where-with-all to succeed in you new endeavor. Just learn to discern what you share with some people. Especially those with Short Arms.

Hey kid, you are bit old, aren't you?

I note that a kids  Easter Egg hunt in Colorado has been cancelled this year due to the behavior of  aggressive  parents during last years event.

Sadly, this hits a little to close to home as it reminds me of a local charity event where cash and prizes were to be distributed that was also cancelled due to the rowdiness, pushing, and, in the case of one individual,  insistence of rights to "remuneration".  The only memorable identifying trait is that this person had unusually short arms in relation to the coat he was wearing.

This is an odd description.  I can't think of anyone I know who fits it...................

Jukebox: Hey I know this one!

That exercise and shower thing doesn't work

I received word from Gummo, the Balloon Boy, yesterday alerting me to the fact that he suffered a potential serious injury that would prevent him from participating in Institute events for a short time. As it turns out, he was lucky to escape with minor bruising and a cut, but, it could have been much more serious.

Like countless days before, Helium Man practices his daily grooming habits of a first-thing-in-the-morning shave and shower. Running a bit late, Gummo decided to save a bit of time and combine both his shower and exercise regimen into one. Gummo's normal workout includes one morning rep consisting of full arm extension twirls, reverse arm twirls, 180 degree full body helicopter pivots, and ending with a full speed front face lunge. Doing all of this in a bathtub, however, is inadvisable. In this case, the lunge was aimed at the bath faucet and resulted in a minor gash and goose-egg on the forehead. This self-developed regimen appears to be a bit silly at best and, in this case, highly dangerous. After all, one would think that if your are going to engage in this type of high impact aerobics, you would at least do so on a padded carpet or workout mat.

After mopping up the blood and his forehead looking like a windshield that had just been hit by a golf ball, Rocky Balboa was good to go and soldiered on through the day. I have alerted the FTI maintenance staff to install an alarm much like the one picture above in Gummo's dormitory room. It will tell us when he is exercising.

Oops! My Mistake.

No truer commitment to excellence, truth, and support for both our readers and staff  can be found anywhere in relation to our efforts to produce this endeavor.  With the help of the Truthometer Deluxe on a semi-periodic basis to use as the true arbiter of Truth, the shining light of veracity guides us on a daily basis.  When a mistake or slight is made that results in casting some one or thing in a negative light, I will immediately correct or retract any statements made here on behalf of the FTI collective groupthink. Today is such an example.

Yesterday's insinuations that the little miser had been watering down the beverages at his annual St. Patty's bash was met with an immediate and belligerent phone call of protest that as a true-blooded, generous, authentic descendant of Irish lineage, Dickey the Peap would simply never, ever, absolutely not, cheat or inhibit anyone's rightful privilege to liquor of any type on any day for personal financial gain. Especially St. Patrick's Day. It simply was not true. He may have a a reputation for creative ways to raise revenue, but, short pouring drinks at a social event was simply not one and he demanded an immediate apology and retraction.

Upon further reflection, I have examined my thoughts in the last 24 hours and come to the realization that I have, indeed, been wrong and that an apology to our 2 faithful readers is in order. I personally know the Peap and realize that though he is a bit, ahem, "stingy" when opening his wallet, I could ask him anytime for a drink and he would willingly and cheerfully give me all that he had and wouldn't think a thing about it. Loss, cost or value would simply not enter into the equation. Financial advantage would not be a consideration.

For the record, I faithfully and dutifully acknowledge my error from yesterday's posting and apologize for any confusion or hurt I may have caused or any damage I may have cast upon the character of our resident Darby O'gill. To summarize: HE WOULD NOT SHORT POUR DRINKS FOR FINANCIAL GAIN.

I am however, still trying to understand the need of a $20 per head "seating fee" for an event at a private residence. That seems a bit excessive.

Stretchin' the green

While spending the weekend of St Patty's doing absolutely nothing close to approaching any type of celebration in honor of the Irish Saint (including drinking of any sort), I happen to turn on the local news. It's the same weekend stuff: sport scores, the weather, fluff baby animal pieces, mindless chit-chat from the B-team news reporters,etc.,  but, do catch a snippet of a teaser comment that catches my ear. Apparently a party over the weekend was broken up that got a bit too out of hand resulting in the detainment of one senior citizen for out of control noise, fighting, and general disruption of the neighborhood.  Now, this gets me to thinking because I know the Frugal One had made a passing comment that he was planning a get together over the weekend.  I figure I will wait for the report after the commercial and listen to the story.  As it turns out, one of the revelers got into an argument over the fact that the little miser had filled Jameson Irish Whiskey bottles with colored water, pouring a generous splash of it into a glass coffee mug, filling with coffee, topping it off with whipped cream, and then trying to portray this concoction as an  Irish coffee drink.  All of this effort to save money when throwing a party.  Unbelievable.

I think it would be better if our boy had thrown a St. Seamus day.  At least the Scotch admit they are "thrifty".      

Jukebox: Is this really 37 years old?

Men have no idea

Following our weekly staff meeting yesterday, I assigned a small thinking exercise to the Misfits in order to measure what little of their actual functioning minds actually produce. Giving credit where credit is due, I thought this example by Dickie the Peap was noteworthy. Not useful, but noteworthy.

Women always say that giving birth is way more painful than a guy getting kicked in the nuts.

Here is proof that they are wrong:

A year or so after giving birth a woman will often say "It would be nice to have another kid".

You never hear a guy say " I would like another kick in the nuts".

I must say, perhaps the little miser isn't as much a lost case as I had originally thought.

Jukebox: No, there's always a reason

You just have to have the right equipment

Though I avoided any embarrasing incidents as we did not have any guests over the other night, I have been still under pressure to repair the icemaker in the FTI commissary as detailed in  the previous posting.  Failure simply was not an option, something had to be done.  I knew that swift, decisive, meaninginful action needed to be taken.  Enter the FTI maintenance staff.

A related branch division of our heretofore mentioned FTI IT dept. (the most reviled department here at FTI), I had an inkling of some possible success as they promptly responded to the maintenance requisition  I had placed earlier in the day, neatly attired in their coveralls and shoe booties ( to keep Mrs. Kfred from complaining about wearing the shoes in the Executive living quarters), and ready to go.  It truly was a marvel as they rummaged through their toolkit to perform their own form of life restoring surgery to the icemaker and leave everything in like new condition.  At one point, I did note I thought it odd that having  a turkey baster, old bicycle seat,  and a single colored Rubik's cube among the collection of wrenches and screwdrivers a bit puzzling, but hey, these guys are the professionals.

In the end, the icemaker was brought back to life and all is well. Before they left, though I had to ask,"what's with the single  colored Rubik's cube? They have 6 colors.  Why only one?"

"Inspiration.  Whenever we get stuck on a problem, we go to the cube, twist it a couple of times and get all sides to be the same.  We figure if we can do that, we should be able to fix anything else."

I know not to question this type of logic.    

Sure, it's nothing that $200 can't fix

I have been informed by Mrs. Kfred that the icemaker on the refrigerator in the FTI commissary is non- functioning and not producing any type of ice presently.  Of course, this type of situation calls for direct action by me that consists of much like my snap analysis of any car engine trouble when stranded along the roadside.  The similarities are striking:  1) opening door to inspect said unit; 2) wiggling  dispenser bar repeatedly, 3) unplugging and replugging the electrical cord back into wall outlet, and 4) pronouncing, "There. That should do it".

I have a distinct feeling that tonight's scheduled happy hour will explore a new trend by serving guests refreshments at room temperature.  

Now, c-c-c-c-cut that out!

I just returned Friday night after a few days out of town on non-Institute business in support of activities in Dilbertland.  They always do a nice job in these types of meetings and give  us lots of information to go and do what is needed to be accomplished.    Normally, we always have conducted these meetings at very nice locations with the finest of service, food, and entertainment.  Everyone looks forward to it and this year was no exception.  I did, however, have one unsettling experience.  The hotel that served as our headquarters is an old hotel built back in the late 1880's.  It is a magnificent property with numerous amenities, and, also has a reputation for housing a ghost.  I think I met it.

After a full day of meetings and presentations on Thursday, we had dinner that evening and a few cocktails to socialize with everyone.  Since this is a luxury hotel and the good folks in Dilbertland constantly remind us that budgets are tight, we were each assigned a roommate in order to  afford to stay in a place of this grandeur.  Anyways, as my roommate does not drink and I had had plenty of fun and games the night before, we thought Thursday night would be a good night to call it an early evening.  I know I was asleep within 3 minutes of hitting the pillow.  I was tired.

Later, as it turned out, around 2:40 in the morning, I was in a state of semi-consciousness, halfway between sleep and still aware of where you are (Does that make sense?  It's that point where you are sleeping but really don't want to open your eyes.  That's where I was.) when the inside of my eyelids flashed.  I am a big fan of lightning.  I love it.  I have always been fascinated by it and thought there was an electrical storm going on.  Remember, during this time I am half asleep.  Opening my eyes, I realize that the light is coming from the bathroom that my roommate failed to turn off after using it in the middle of the night.  Collecting my senses and thoughts, I look over in the adjacent bed and see my roommate with his arm under his head, face up on the bed, nose pointed to the ceiling, deep asleep.   I thought, "how could he forget to turn off the light?"  About that time, the light clicked off and the room was dark.  Now this is a bit weird, but, I figure the light is off, so we are no worse for the wear.  It must be a short in the wiring.;  it's an old hotel.  About 20 minutes later, after getting  settled in, I hear a distinctive "CLICK" noise.  The light is on again.  This time, the hair on my neck is on end and a shiver goes through my body.  My mind now recalls the conversation in the lobby during check-in that this hotel is haunted.  I hadn't thought of it before.  Now this is a bit freaky, I am definitely uncomfortable.  The light is on in the bathroom, no one went in their since the last time and, yet, there it is blazing away.  I am not sure whether to pull up the covers a bit tighter around my neck or get up and turn the damn thing off.  After about 2 minutes it goes off again.  10 minutes later, it goes on again!  Now I am concerned. I say out loud "What the hell is going on?" loud enough to wake my roommate.  He rousts awake and is saying "Huh?  What's going on?  Did you forget to turn out the light?"  I explain this has happened 3 times and all of a sudden he is awake.  Fast.  I get up turn of the light manually and that is the end of it for the rest of the evening.  

Now, in fairness, I must disclose that the switch in the bathroom is a motion activated switch on a timer; it's not a standard toggle switch.  I guess something like an insect or flying bug could have activated it.  I am unaware of any type of light switch that has that kind of sensitivity connected to it , but hey, I will give it the benefit of the doubt.   I just know what I experienced  and I never saw a fly, butterfly, bee, or any other winged creature in that room.  I do not believe in ghosts.  But I do believe there are things that can't be  explained.  And I think this was one of them.

We have contingency plans

I am out of town for the next 3 days on  non-Institute business attending a meeting along with my peers from Dilbertland.   We get together once every year or so for yearly kickoff meetings and I am looking forward to making re-acquaintances with some old chums.  It should be fun.

As a result of my absence, I once again have to invoke the emergency vacancy clause of our bylaws in order to keep Institute business running and legal.    This single act broadens my powers to act decisively should any emergency occur (up to and including imposing martial law here at the compound) while I am not in actual physical presence at the FTI Control Center. I undertake this act solemnly and understand it should never be taken for granted. Such as it is with leadership.  Power has it's burdens.  

With this single act accomplished, I only have one final task to complete before my departure:  Ask Mrs. Kfred to sign my leave request.

Giving back to the Community

As Executive Director here at FTI,  I wear many hats.  Though Mrs. Kfred primarily acts as Director of Institute Safety, she is, in reality, our Chief Financial Officer for Institute purposes.  Basic accounting and day to day financial transactions are handled solely by her.  For our personal responsibilities, though,  when it comes to taxes, that's my baby.

As noted in the About FTI tab above,  our endeavor here is to offer policy analysis, event commentary, and recount observations.  Any financial gain along the way is secondary.    Accordingly, by listening to the investment advice of one D., the Peap, investor/extraordinaire, who's can't miss, sure-fire, investment picks include such industry stalwarts as Enron, Washington Mutual, and most recently, Kodak, our tax liability is, has been, and continues to be, ahem, negligible.  (Investment tip to our 2 faithful readers:  Ignore any advice if given by an individual who regularly develops temporary blindness everytime a lunch check is presented at the table. His memory of can't miss stocks seems to be affected in the same manner.)    Anyways, after reporting and accounting for the personal compensation as Executive Director I receive here, scouring tax code for every possible deduction I can find, and arguing that I should be eligible for hardship pay, it looks like Mrs. Kfred and I are going to receive a whopping $185 refund from the government.  Big deal.

In reflecting over how to best give back to the  FTI community with my modest windfall, I am torn between adding to the funding for our annual membership drive or buying a folding chair to create interest for our upcoming 2nd FTI "Western Hemisphere Relations Forum /Auto Parts Swap Meet".   Our first outing was, ah, disappointing.  It is my intent and fervent hope that with the additional seat available, someone might actually attend and participate.

Chevy parts are over there.

An embarrassment of Riches

Well, now isn't this a quandary.

I am exploring a rival Institute's offer to join their organization. My dilemma is over the fact that our succession plan has never been fully developed or adopted and that is a problem. As discussed a few years ago, the glacial pace at which our plan is developing is troubling. Oh sure, I have my able-bodied Assistant Director/Trustee, Giacommo, waiting in the wings to take over the wheel on a split second notice.  I do note, however, that befitting our membership, the wheel  is rusted shut due to the inactivity and lack of any creative output emanating from our assembled brain trust.  As a result, Giacommo might not be prepared to deal with the normal day to day headaches I confront each day.  For example, Gummo, the Balloon Boy's, repeated requests for swimming lessons are not easy to repeatedly deny.  I deny these, not so much to spite Gummo, rather, to save the instructor the frustration and heartache of knowing  no matter how hard you try to prove otherwise, Archimedes principle is really a hoax.  So it is with Gummo.

Our weekly staff meeting/Valentines party later this morning, may give me a clearer indication if I can find a worthy successor. Based on the gifts I have received to date, though, I am a bit concerned.  After all, how many dyed, hard-boiled eggs can one eat?        

Jukebox: Leon, where did the years go?

It's gonna cost ya

The economic upheaval we have all experienced for the past 4 years  has produced a number of nasty surprises.  One unfortunate consequence  I have increasingly  observed from all of this is the practice of various businesses to gouge their customers with bullshit fees and charges.  Today's case in point:  the good folks at Charles Schwab bank.

I am currently in the process of refinancing the FTI compound.  Due to the vastly superior intellectual endeavors and policy position's emanating  from our nerve center, we have been in the enviable position of maintaining an assessed value that helps us to qualify for a variable rate mortgage of fixed 2.875% for the first 5 years of the loan with no appraisal necessary.  In my mind, that is a pretty sweet deal!  Of course, I know of the pitfalls of an ARM, but only plan to use it as a vehicle to eventually have the compound itself mortgage free which will allow for a free cash flow to pursue our ultimate goal: developing an FTI taxidermy studio.  But, I digress.  One small detail has held me up, however.  I do have an open line of home equity credit which acts as a second mortgage held by Schwab bank.  And there is the rub.

My line of credit is worth $90,000, but, has a $0 balance owed.   I have never used it.     I merely opened it as a method to have some available cash if I or Mrs. Kfred ever need it for some type of emergency.  The limit, however, is figured into any refinance equation and acts as another debt against my house.   The good folks I  am refinancing with  (Everbank in Jacksonville, Florida) were OK with this open limit and had finished all of my paperwork and merely needed Schwab to sign off on the subordination to hold second place on the mortgage.  Schwab got a little nervous about this and insisted that now an appraisal would be in order even though they currently are in second position anyway.  In a nutshell, the only thing changing are the terms with my first lender.  Schwab is not involved.  To make a long story short, I chose to close out my line of credit and informed Schwab bank of my decision.    Schwab was "sorry to lose me as a valued customer" and confirmed that I owed nothing on the line, but, would need to generate a payoff statement just the same.  I need this document to give to the first lender.  So far so good.  Here comes the complaint: They could put it in the mail to arrive in 3 days or they could fax it to me for a $20 charge!   $20!  For a fax!  With unlimited long distance minutes, I know it is no longer phone charges.  I can't, for the life of me, figure out the labor involved to send a fax.   I guess labor must be expensive.  I told my customer care representative to drop it in the mail.

 I have learned from this experience.  I am contemplating making this site a members only/annual membership, paid access type of forum from this point forward.  The revenue generated would be nothing but bottom line revenue to apply to the Misfits vacation fund.  On deeper analysis, however, perhaps our 2 faithful readers might balk at our anticipated $3000 annual assessment.   I might have to think of some alternative methods.  I guess I will talk to Chuck.    

  

What better way to kick off the New Year?

I've been neglectful, I've been lazy, I've been remiss, but, I sure as hell haven't been asleep.   I found this image and immediately thought of  Dickey the Peap.  Somehow, I think it just fits the recipient to a tee.    

It's not an event; It's a lifestyle

I had my annual Christmas lunch with Dickey the Peap yesterday. Though the content of our meeting was highly enjoyable, it did not have quite the explosive revelations as last year.  That is not to say, however, that I came away disappointed. Hardly.

While sitting over lunch, enjoying a  sandwich and a couple glasses each of some fine, handcrafted ales, we discussed various topics that invariably end each time with the relating to the Frugal One's propensity to rarely make any type of spontaneous financial outlays.  Under any circumstances.  Oh sure, the little miser tries to turn it around on me and accuse me of some worse type of behavior, but, I accept that as the price for being able to bash him on this forum on a regular basis.   Anyway, we are sitting and laughing and acting like a couple of 12 year olds making fart jokes when a woman approaches out table.  She stops at our table and asks, "Are you Dickey the Peap? You don't know who I am, do you?"  Now, at this point, our boy instinctively reacts with the same deer-in-the-headlights look he displays whenever a dinner check or repair bill is presented anywhere near in his vicinity.  I could sense  that Dickey was now rapidy mentally going through the faces in his mind of every bill collector  he had ever known.  "I am not going to tell you my name.  We went to high school together. But, I thought it was you.  You haven't changed any."    Suddenly, the light clicked and recognized her as a girl he had taken on a couple of dates in high school a million years ago.  Nothing serious, just  a girl from his past.  "I've been looking for  you for a long time."  Now, at this point, I figure I have a front row seat to some good stuff.  I couldn't wait for the rest.  "We went out one time for burgers and milkshakes and I had to use all of my baby sitting money to pay the check because you had forgotten your wallet.  You told me that you would pay me back and I shouldn't worry about it.  I always thought you were such a nice boy and one who would keep his word.  You never did pay me back and,  as a result, I didn't have money the next day to ride the bus crosstown to where the  admissions test were being given and I missed out on being accepted into college. I ended up  getting married, had 2 kids, divorced, went broke, and am now stuck in some dumpy apartment. I figure if you had paid me the lousy $1.85 at the time, my life would have been completely different.  I just wanted to come over and tell you I have never forgotten you Dickey.  I would recognize you anywhere!"

Needless to say, our joyous event ended on a bit of a bummer.  While the frugal one used the restroom, I noted that the woman and her party were preparing to leave.  There was just one question I had to ask her.  "I hear you say that Dickey hadn't changed any in all of these years.  What gave it away?  His weight, body build, hair color?  What was it?'  Without a beat, she replied, "He's always had one simple identifying feature.  I knew right away it was him".  "What? What? Tell me what it is",  I asked.  "Two words", she said.  "Short arms".

An Identity crisis

Ah, Thanksgiving. My favorite holiday.

Sitting here pounding out this message, I have Pandora tuned to playing Thanksgiving songs softly in the background as I plan the logistics for our Thanksgiving Day feast. Kfred Jr. 1 and Goldilocks will be joining us along with Marv, the Neighbor, and his wife as well. The plan is to barbeque a turkey this year while Marv, the Neighbor, plans to augment the menu with a deep fried bird as well. There should not be a shortage of food.

I am having a bit of dilemma though as my black knicker pants and black top with the white contrasting cuffs and collar did not get finished by the cleaners in time this year.  My entire holiday mood around this day is heavily influenced by my  attire and, now, I only have my Pilgrim hat available for use.  This is  more than a bit troubling as I may have to resort to the true and tired Indian get-up.

I just don't know the connection Ghandi had with our forefathers.  

This is more than a little junk in the trunk

I have taken a brief break from my duties posting here, but, am back and what better way to return.............

A woman was arrested in Florida for injecting another woman's buttocks with a mixture of cement, oil, a tire sealant, and super glue as a means to enhance her buttocks in order to work in a club in south Florida. The apparent victim wanted to have a "curvier" figure and figured paying this "doctor" $700 was a cost effective way to get the look she was hoping for.

The good doctor had actually injected herself earlier as a demonstration of her prowess. As pictured by the good doctor's photo here, I would tend to think that any prospective patient would run the opposite direction upon seeing the results.    This is an actual booking photo and  WAS NOT PHOTO SHOPPED.

I wonder if anyone is discussing this expense and type of procedure as we debate health care options.

Jukebox: With Greatful Appreciation of our Veterans

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

So, that's how it is

Some random thoughts:

• Was that one of the best World Series or not? I am not a big baseball fan, but, always get stoked for the World Series. Game 6 was a classic which included some plays and events you simply don't see very often. Wow. What a lot of fun to watch.

• Fall is here.  I guess my semi frequent tarrings of Dickie the Peap on the golf course are coming to an end.  Oh well.  The little miser has all winter to lick his wounds. And take some lessons.  

• I have not been disciplined with my recent writings.  I am trying to post only meaningful topics that would appeal to our 2 faithful readers.  Honestly, I can't top some of the entertaining events going on around me of the societal type.  From politicians refusing to do anything, to Wall Street protesters accomplishng little to nothing, to Gummo , the Balloon Boy starting to assume the identity of Tiny Tim in "A Christmas Carol",  I can't equal it.  

I guess I will go supervise the costume selections of the Misfits for Halloween.  

Jukebox: It's all on the line tonight

Which club does she work?

Just in case, the Halloween spirit misses anyone, I offer this picture as inspiration.

There's just something wrong about all of this.

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

Jukebox: Raise your hand, brothers and sisters

It takes a while to load, but it is worth it. 

Occupy? I thought you said Apple pie

Strolling around the local Occupy Wall Street protest in my vicinity, I was surprised to find Dickey the Peap camping out and protesting with the rest of the unhappy people of the world. Now, I am all for some serious tax reform, closing of loopholes, and a general "reset" of how taxes and financial issues are developed, applied, and spent. I do not, however, think that camping out in a park for weeks on end and developing policy via a unanimous consensus is really very practical. If you want to make some change, take the protest where the policy has been implemented all this time: Congress. Not in the local park. If you want to be part of a campout jamboree, join the Boy Scouts. Otherwise, contact your congressman.

Regardless, upon spying the little miser, I asked him what his beef was. After all, as a card carrying member of the 1% club, I thought he would most definitely feel out of place in the middle of the common folk. Dickey replied that since he could partake in the donated food being served without having to pay for it directly, it was worth his time to be down there.

With this type of logic, I am glad I am part of the 99%. I think.

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

Jukebox: How could I have missed Jukebox Friday?

You can't escape the long arm of the law

I opened my Yahoo mail acct. yesterday and was surprised to find an email notification from the New York State-Department of Motor Vehicles informing me that I was "IN VIOLATION OF NYS V AND T LAW". I was accused of "speed over 55 zone". Now, I was a bit confused on this whole thing as I had visited New York in May of this year and rented a car while attending Kfred Jr. 2's graduation from West Point, but, I don't remember having any contact with any of New York's finest. I then thought perhaps this was a camera ticket and perhaps they had caught me on film.

Inspecting a bit further, I became a bit more suspicious. The ticket was from "Police Agency, New York State Police". The offense was dated July 2, 2011 at 7:25 in the morning and there was an attached zip file for me to open with all of the rest of the relevant information. I was just about to open said file when I looked again at the return email address and noted this message came from an email address of "infoyanol@nypolce.com". Gosh , that's not real professional. The police department can't even spell Police correctly and instead of a .gov suffix they have a .com suffix. Summoning all of my intuitive skills (and with a strong assist from ASK.com), I realized this is just a scam to get into your email address book once you download the zip file. I summarily moved this to the trash file and forgot about it.

I am not going to let these scammers get off the hook so easy, though. No sir-ree. Because of the severe time crunch I operate under, I plan to text them while driving on my way into Dilbertland. They don't know whom they are messing with.

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

Jukebox: How can you can Hank?

For Better or worse

To my Loving wife,

Today is our anniversary. 30 Years of being Married. Wow. I can hardly believe I am old enough to be married for 30 years.

As time goes by, a person beings to change; the weight starts to hang around, the skin starts to hang, the reactions begin to slow, and the endurance begins to weaken, among others. Even the memory begins to fade a bit. But, for me, the one thing that hasn't deteriorated is my love for one person. It has gotten stronger. Oh sure, some times I snap at, poke fun a little to far, and sometimes am just "out of line" towards you, my best friend and loving partner. (When I am over the line, I get stopped cold with one question: "Would you treat your friends this way?" Of course, the answer is no.)

When I think of though, who is my biggest supporter, my rock solid foundation, and who is glad to see me every evening when I come home, it's one person: you. Now of course, we have had our differences over the years, the raised voice arguments, the 2 day long quiet phases, etc. And yet, I have never once, ever, been told to sleep on the couch, or been asked to leave. We both know that we have an equal part of responsibility to self and an equal responsibility to each other. When we started out, we realized we had the same type of goals, ambitions, and dreams in life, and that by combining our efforts into one via marriage, we may have a good shot at attaining them. For the most part, I think we did.

So, here's to you, dear. Thank you for being who you are and for all you do. I am quite confident I wouldn't be where I am today without your love and support. I couldn't ask for a better wife (or life).

Love,

Your husband

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

Jukebox: Don't you think we should?

That's a good number

My faith in the legal system has been restored. Somewhat.

The ongoing FTI Dopes Trial is slowly winding down. At a hearing yesterday, the judge awarded the good guys a base amount of $118,000 plus some other fees to be determined in 2 weeks. The reason for the ambiguity is that our lawyer, Shifty, submitted a bill of over $170,000 which was objected to by the other side. Of course, both sides have to argue back and forth, which does nothing but make the lawyers richer, but, hey, that's the way the game is played. Regardless, it is significantly more than I thought we would ever receive and certainly more than Shifty thought we would get.

It's one thing to be awarded money. It's another thing to collect it. In the end, though, I think we are going to come out of this OK. I may have to wait a bit, but, the judgment does come with a 12% interest charge tacked on it as well.

I've waited 3 years for justice. I think I am beginning to see it rise over the hilltop. It's a good day.

What's going on here?

Gas Prices are down.

Osama bin Laden is Dead.

Women can now vote and run for office in Saudi Arabia.

And I was awarded attorney's fees in the FTI Dopes Trial.

Why don't I feel things are good right now?

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

Jukebox: One way to Live

My Wall Street experience

Among the myriad of pieces of mail received here at the FTI compound are the usual anonymous hate letters, mistaken notices of pending eviction, solicitations/testimonials for curing male pattern baldness, and the like. One interesting piece did come through yesterday that is an actual godsend.

Nearly 10 years ago, I took a small position in  some Washington Mutual stock and sold it a couple of years later resulting in a small profit.  Thinking that my stock picking prowess was better than most, I decided a bit later to get back in and bought 200 shares to make some more money off of this "winner".   Previously priced in the high $40 range, I got in at a mere $2 a share, this thing is going to go up!   Of course, this decision was made in September of 2008, a mere month before the total collapse and forced insolvency of Washington Mutual.   It was highly speculative and I knew it.  I got greedy and gambled and lost.  Game over.

Now, yesterday, I receive 30 pages of small print explanation explaining that I am eligible for some compensation due to a class action lawsuit that was filed alleging fraud and mismanagement.  Thinking that, by golly, I might recover some of my lost  $800+  investment, I started to wade through all of the gibberish.  Buried deep in the middle of the brochure was the statement that at this time no one knows what the participation rate of past losers investors will be, but, I could probably expect to recover $ .07 a share. $ .07 measly cents!  Immediately springing into action based on my longtime observation of our resident stock picker and investment guru, Dickey the Peap, I  realized that this $14 windfall was simply free money waiting to be claimed and I would be foolish to simply ignore this opportunity to cash in.  I have dutifully filled out all of the necessary paperwork and am scheduled to mail it this morning.

My confusion over this incident stems from the fact that we here at FTI had, in fact, been discussing issuing our own IPO to raise additional capital.  With our pending $14 cash infusion slated to arrive anywhere within the next 12-14 months, I have developed a budget that should negate our need to go  public.    No public oversight, no unnecessary SEC regulations, no mad shareholders.  Just the same bunch of idiots.

The liquidation sale beings next Tuesday.

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

JUKEBOX: The mantra for many

"Laaaaadies and Gentlemen, It's time for our Main Event!"

Last night, I watched a 2 hour documentary tracing the history of Wrestling from the late 1800's to it's present form.  Starting out once as an exhibition of strength, balance, and athleticism, wrestling has involved into a form of entertainment for it's customers.  The actual activity has moved from one of an athletic event to a type of soap opera with a complete cast of characters including good, evil, pretty boys, and the like.    As spoken by one of the players, "If you don't believe it, there is no explanation possible.  If you do believe it, no explanation is needed."

I can relate to this whole situation as we here at FTI have the same type of scenario occurring.  My role is like that of a promoter: hyping, exhorting,  and trying to keep some sort  of semblance of order on the whole circus while acting as if everything is normal around me.  The illusion of chaos is simply your mind playing tricks on you.

My problem, however, is that we are missing any of the good guys.  Oh sure, we've got plenty of "heels" (wrestling slang for the bad characters):  Gummo, the Balloon Boy;  Rat Bastard G, the Green Comic, Slateface, etc.  Dickey the Peap might come closest to personifying good, but  I think he is re-inventing himself into the alter ego of Cheapo, the Magnificent.

I think I will just make sure that I replace the metal folding chairs with soft pillows at our FTI conference table.  It would seem to be a bit safer.  

Let's get the man on the Street's perspective

A couple of weekend observations:

• I don't think the  FTI Dopes Trial will ever end.  This past Thursday the judge postponed, again, for 2 weeks, a hearing to determine costs due to me and my fellow plaintiffs.  Though disappointed, I am not surprised.  The efficiency of the court system in our country today is very poor.  Never, ever, ever get involved with the court system if you can avoid it.  It is expensive, time consuming, and ultimately, wasteful.      

• Be careful when bidding any outside craftsman work on your behalf by outside tradespeople.  I had the chance to observe an exclusive behind-the-scenes look into the sordid, tawdry, world of bidding practices as described by our own Dickey the Peap over the weekend.  I am finalizing the editing and compilation of hidden camera recordings detailing in his own words the gouging, manipulation, and outright shyster-like tactics employed by the little miser foisted upon unsuspecting senior citizens, neighbors, and inexperienced homeowners when   offering to do work on their behalf.  The details will be explosive, the fees outrageous.  One viewing of this video will convince most people that the Saturday Do It Yourself clinic at the Home Depot is time well spent.  
• I know better, but, I don't want to believe it:  Fall is on it's way.  Both weekend days were mid-90 degree days, but, by 8:15 pm, it is pitch black out and the nights are cooling substantially.  I like the change of seasons.  I just got cheated out of summer and now it is already leaving.  That kind of sucks.    

I call 'em as I see 'em.

It's post Dickey the Peap Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's "post Dickey the Peap" Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know.  I had to argue, wheedle, plead, and beg the little miser to pony up a couple of dollars while visiting yesterday to pay for Sunday brunch once in a while.    All to no avail.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

Jukebox: Kind of how we operate around here

Will this ever end?

OK, today is payday.  Or so, I think.

The continuing saga of the FTI Dopes trial is supposed to draw to a close today with  a hearing of determination of attorney  costs owed to me from the idiot developer.  His hard headedness (is that a word?) over this entire episode has cost nothing but a bunch of money, but now, it is turning into his responsibility.  I was in the courtroom last week when the judge scheduled today's prospective hearing and, yet, his attorney now is objecting on the grounds of insufficient notice.  Insufficient notice?!  Were you not there, lady?   Of course, everything in the law has to be in a written form and I am wondering if Shifty missed by one day the formal delivery of letter notifying the other attorney of this hearing.

Once again, chalk this episode up to another in the"Why I Hope I Am Never Involved With The Legal System In The United States Ever Again", file.    

Some Milestone Day reflections

Today is my Birthday,
I'm gonna have a good time,
I say it's my birthday,
Happy birthday to me.


After about 8 years of age, birthdays don't mean much to most people.  I am like most people.  It's just another day.  I do pause though to reflect on my life to this point. 

To date, I am thankful and blessed to have:

1) Good Health,
2) A loving wife, successful children,  and a supportive extended family,
3) Some Great friends,
4) A job I like,
5) and satisfaction in my life to date.

On the other hand,  I am sorry I didn't: 

1) Go to college,
2) Attempt to at least try to meet the goal of when I was a four year old and become a railroad engineer,
3) Have the courage to tell some people to stick it up their ass when I was wronged (that's another story),
4) Walk away from bidding one more time on Ebay when acquiring the Factorcrap Truthometer Deluxe.

Had I done so on  point #4 above, I wouldn't be in the middle of this rinky-dink Instititute I currently run. 

Oh, how life deals us such strange circumstances. 
 
 

Jukebox: "Some people GOT to have it"

Hailing all frequencies!

I just received word that the Green Comic has not suffered the same fate as Jimmy Hoffa.

While conducting our normal morning roll call yesterday morning, I noted that the Green Comic and a couple of other members of the Doofus Squad were nowhere to be found.  We had received no request for an excused absence, nor, noted an records here at the FTI infirmary of any unexpected medical emergencies. Knowing that the leader of any of the absent dimwits would be Green because he is the only one with the ability to tie his shoes,  I  immediately  suspected that perhaps he had met with the same fate as the union boss of the 70's because of the powerful enemies he has offended over the years; Grandmothers, legitimate comedians, and  paper clips.   Instead, Green, the Rat Bastard G, and Gummo, the Balloon Boy had all decided to take an early Labor Day holiday and went on a 5 day camping trip that coincided  with my recent camping trip.  Thus, their absence was not recognized.  (The fact that they provide no useful contributions on a regular basis should not be discounted, either.)   After repeated phone calls, police welfare checks, the scouring of local homeless animal shelters, and a thorough search of the Walmart garbage bins, I finally received a call from  Green explaining the absence.   I reminded him of our extended leave policy here at FTI and received assurances none of this would ever happen again.  Regardless, we are at full strength and gearing up for the fall kickoff and upcoming FTI membership drive.

It looks to be a slow fall.

The end is in sight

I am scheduled to attend a hearing at 9 am this morning for the signing and finalization of the judgment order of the FTI Dopes trial.  I really am looking forward to watching the idiot defendant and his family formally be legally held responsible for their actions.  I don't think they will actually accept their punishment, but, that is beside the point.  They are now legally attached for it.

As described earlier, the greed and stubbornness of one individual will eventually end up costing he and his family over a quarter million dollars.  It seems like such a shame.  I no longer have any feelings of sympathy or compassion for this guy and his family.  He had numerous opportunities to try to mitigate the damages of his own actions, but, wouldn't do so.  Oh well.

Like I said earlier, I don't expect ever to see some sort of big check with my name on it.  I think I will slowly receive a token amount of money gained from drawn out hearings and legal battles resulting in a substantially less amount of money than I spent after attorney fees are considered.  But that's OK.  The good guys won.  I am however quite sure I never, ever, ever, want to be mixed up with the legal system again.      

I would have made a lousy pioneer

Mrs. Kfred and I  just completed a fun weekend with Marv, the neighbor, and his wife  in the luxury and surroundings of his RV on a small trip.  There was a small festival in the area that they wanted to attend over the weekend and invited us to come up and stay over the weekend with them.

I have never been much of a camping person as I have never understood the fun of sleeping on the hard ground, freezing your ass of most of the time, not taking a shower for 2 - 3 days at a time, and eating cold, burnt on  the outside, half raw on the inside, hamburgers and fish during mealtime.  Sorry that just doesn't appeal to me.  This time was different, however.  Pull out the couch and it turns into a comfy hide-a-bed with plenty of blankets.  Microwave, flatscreen TV, internet, on-board shower and toilet, and a small ice making freezer unit for cocktails, and PRESTO!, roughing it isn't too bad.

As a nod to the idea of a community campfire, however, we did conduct a time old ritual:  we did drink 4 "one last beers" ending at 2:30 in the morning in addition to the numerous ones we had before while starting and maintaining the fire during the night.      It is always smart to properly use, care,  and handle the resources you brought with you.  I feel that simple act respected this solemn duty.

Now, where did I put the hair gel?

Jukebox: The Genius of George

A little summer mind closet cleaning

No theme today; just a couple of random thoughts that need to be expressed:

I don't understand  the Obama '12 stickers starting to pop up on cars.  As noted here previously, I don't trust any politicians regardless of party (and, no, I didn't vote for McCain.) For the love of God, though, people don't even know who the other candidate is and they already know they are going to support Obama next year!?? We're not exactly in a good spot here under this guy's leadership!  Again, I don't trust the Republicans over this guy, but,  holy shit, can't people see what happened when we selected a President based on popularity like they choose the winner of American Idol?   To this subset of the population: Welcome.  You have gained involuntary membership to our FTI population of slow learners. 

The current kill tally of the Little Bastards and his ilk is now 3. Having failed to learn how to kill successfully previously, I am now on a roll and have trapped 3 in the last 3 weeks.  My lawn is better and so is my self confidence.    I have another trap placed, set, and awaiting the next victim.  This is truly a war of attrition which I expect to win. 

A note of both congratulations and  admonishment is due to Mrs. Dickey the Peap.   The congratulations are for her 43 hell-bent years of staying with the little short-armed one this long.   The  admonishment is for  what her life really could have been had she rightfully kicked his sorry little ass to the curb 44 years ago in the first place.  Mrs. Peap is smart, attractive, and recently retired from a successful teaching career. She has so much going for her, but, she should have recognized that when the little miser pulled the now all to well familiar excuse of having "forgot my wallet, I'll catch it next time" routine when on their first ice cream date those many years ago, she should have said, "Siyornara pal, you cheap little twerp". The phrase "love is blind" truly gets exercised in this case.

I think the universe is now back in alignment with these topics revealed. I know I feel better for having unloaded them.

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

You haven't been posting lately

A friendly reminder from the little miser, Dickey the Peap, was given to me yesterday about my dereliction of duty relating to posts here recently.

I have been out of town on non-Institute business and, as a result, have had to prioritize this chore down the line of completed tasks. Fear not, however, oh frugal one, as I have already started on next week's posts including a Monday version of some potpourri of random thoughts and observations which I will list.

Our upcoming Fall FTI membership drive is just around the corner and our marketing/promotions department is planning on something even bigger than our highly successful Western Hemisphere Relations Forum /Auto Parts Swap Meet" held last spring.  I shudder to think what it may entail, but, that's not my problem.  I just go along with it.

Regardless, the bashing of the short armed one begins again on Monday.

Jukebox: ..........and this point forward

Are eggs one item or 12?

I was recently solicited by a firm marketing the helpful type of signs pictured below for use here at the FTI compound. Though I could find nothing in their portfolio that I felt was directly useful, I did think the concept was on the mark. The example they presented us was especially appropriate for our population, but, as we don't have any retail outlets, I decided to pass on the opportunity.

I share this with you for your consideration.

Speak up, I can't see you

This guy employs some of the same logic I see demonstrated regularly.

Ah, the lengths some people will go to get their way. 

Jukebox: It's the Summer's Full Moon

Now, if you really are hungry

The Trustees of the the FTI Capital Preservation committee have just wound up 2 days of intense meetings which I was privileged enough to attend. I observed a reputed expert address our group and give them advice in order to shore up our financial position in this time of economic upheaval. It was amazing to watch as the members wrangled with the various financial scenarios and ideas necessary to the protection of our meager balance moving forward. No stone was unturned, nor, any idea thought goofy, as the group worked tirelessly to achieve their goal to keep our financial foundation safe. Ultimately, it was decided; only one expert, only one being with the financial where-with-all, the knowledge, the resolve, the experience, the tight-fisted monetary experience in order to deal with such a crisis was needed to be called in to address the group. Get Dickey the Peap on the phone.

The Peap reviewed the same, tired tricks he has employed himself over the years that, admittedly, have helped in amass his fabulous wealth. The browbeating of clerks, the pointed refusal to accept the number on the tag as the price, and my particular favorite, the commitment to memory rote of the phrase, "I'll catch it next time", when deciding to pay for a meal seem so, well, old. Apparently, the Peap has recognized this as well as now his new favorite technique have morphed into a 21st century variety; investing in small penny stock companies and then attempting to gain a seat on the board with his multi-100,000 share positions. Total investment: $900. (For our math impaired readers, that is approximately .0045 per share cost.) He then uses this new-found influence to further browbeat restaurant maitre'd's into thinking he must be some big-shot that gets a free meal and the cycle just perpetuates itself. Actually, it is a brilliant strategy.

Our committee politely listened, gave him the obligatory golf clap at the end of his presentation, and then sent him on his merry way as the short-armed one reportedly had another lunchtime obligation. Something about going to Costco and enjoying the samples.

Not a welcome rating

I was called to a late night, emergency, on-the-double, last minute meeting called by the cheap-assed Board of Directors yesterday to take up an urgent matter. The ramifications, they felt, could be enormous. I, on the other hand, saw this whole thing coming.

It seems that an upgrade rating by the International Delegation of Irrelevancy, Observations, and Truthfulness (IDIOT) Society of our efforts here mean now that an influential, partially respected, ratings organization has looked at our past efforts, noted our various observations and writings,and decided we are now more stupid than our peers. This designation is obviously not a positive trend for our readership.

To our two faithful readers, we apologize. I will do everything in my power to lower the level of stupidity here. Keep in mind, however, I cannot control the outside influences of the subject matter I deal with on a daily basis. They are called Misfits for a reason.

Jukebox: Don't we all?

Our own Crisis

Interestingly, a crisis that has been bubbling in the background here at FTI has suddenly and distinctly come to the forefront for our attention. Not unlike the recent budget battle in Congress over the US debt situation, their is an ideological split among our group on how to best proceed to meet the mandates of our original charter. Our crisis? An intellectual one. 

Aligned on  one side of the controversy is the idiot faction; Gummo, the Balloon Boy, the Rat Bastard G, et al., who seem to think that the continuing contribution to intellectual enhancement of the Internet consists of posting 40 year old Beatles videos on Youtube.  The other side (best described as "illusory" thinkers ) are populated by Slateface and Dickey the Peap who feel the best way to demonstrate intellectual  prowess to our 2 faithful readers is to constantly belittle and make fun of me as Executive Director.   Neither faction, however, can claim superiority in their arguments as both groups are easily classified as dimwitted, slow, and in the Peap's case, cheap.  Regardless, it is my duty as Executive Director to listen to all of the advice given to me, evaluate it for it's usefulness, and then decide how to proceed. 

Fortunately, the cheap-assed Board of Directors did allow me the option to pursue independent courses of action should I choose to when confronted with this exact type of situation.   Currently,  like the woman in Oklahoma has already done, I am leaning toward claiming that FTI is actually related to DB Cooper.  I hope it is true; it would explain the disappearance of any sign of intelligence all of this time.

Best filed under "Life, Get a"

I know you have to be creative in order to get people to donate to your cause, but I seem to be missing the purpose here.  This actually mirrors my thought of stacking our ceremonial pointed hats atop one another in order to attain a new height record.  I think I will abandon that goal as well. 

LONDON (Reuters) - A British attempt to set a new world record for the longest chain of brassieres was called off after volunteers got the lingerie in a twist. Campaigners at "Bra Chain" hoped to hook together over 100 miles of bras in Worcester to raise money for women's charities and beat the current world record of 166,000 linked brassieres, held by Australia.

Volunteers, or "hookers," aimed to connect 200,000 bras, but were forced to quit at half that number when the undergarments became tangled in the boxes.

"We underestimated the time it would take to get the bras out of their boxes and hooked together - there were bras all over the place," said Launa Walker at Bra Chain.

"It does take a lot of time to assemble bras into a chain and after about nine hours of hooking them up we decided to call it a day," Walker told Reuters.

"We are going to try it again -- we've learned a few tricks of the trade, now all that remains is to set a date," said Walker.

Die, you little Bastard!

The middle of summer is traditionally a time of slow events and, as a result, translates into a lower volume of commentary, analysis, and announcements.  .  There is, however, a small victory to be celebrated and noted here at FTI that I take much pleasure over:  I would like to formally announce the successful capture and death of  one lawn mole! 

The little Bastard and his family have been playing havoc with the FT grounds for the past 3 years and I have been unsuccessfully battling him  to rid him from our compound.  Moles burrow underground in search of food (earthworms) and their resultant trails are unsightly.  Along the way as they are tunneling, they dig dirt up and leave a pile on top of the ground.  This raises havoc when trying to mow and is just  a pain in the ass.  I have been battling these guys for 3 years and have resolved myself that though I will never eliminate them, I do want to control them.  To date, my efforts have been unsuccessful and I was losing faith if I would ever win or not.  This one small victory, however, has re-charged my spirit and it is now , "Game On". 

Doesn't take much to lift my spirits, huh?

Jukebox: Do it before you criticize

Financial crisis? Here's how to fix it.

Unlike the current spending argument surrounding our nation's capital, we here at FTI have no such drama.    Our chief financial/safety officer, Mrs. Kfred simply issues the edict that "You will not be spending any more money" and that is the end of it.  No endless partisan bickering, no negotiations, no delayed mid-summer recess.  I have been given my marching orders; clearly and succinctly.  There are no worries of any type of household default or downgrading of my financial worthiness. 

Should I choose to ignore this directive, my physical health status would definitely be affected.  And it wouldn't be for the good.   

And on a different subject

Doesn't anyone think that the current budget crisis being presently debated in the US Congress is a lot of nothing?  It doesn't seem to be real tough to figure out what is happening:  we don't have enough money to keep spending on services we can't afford.    I'm just a simple guy whom can pretty plainly see the issue at hand.    And yet,  we keep getting the drama and denials by both sides that there is no compromising spirit from the other side. 

It's sad.  We are all going to end up poorer for this  charade.  Yeah, people are going to feel the pinch and there are some people whom are going to suffer when this all ends.  Ultimately though, I think we have to get our financial  house in order and take our medicine.  We are going to probably feel a bit sicker before we get better.   It's not going to be easy.  But it is necessary. 

This is my reward after a busy week?

I am back and firmly in control having spent the entire last week on super, special assignment. 

First, it was the return after the Lost Reunion Tour II from the week prior.  As chronicled earlier, the LRT II was an overwhelming success and save for the one mistaken gender identity issue with the Rat Bastard, I would say it went off flawlessly. Upon my return, I was then thrown into a full 2-1/2 day visit and work session with my boss from Dilbertland; you know, my real job. All of that went extremely well, but it is time consuming. Following his departure, I was then called upon to assist in the yearly inventory function in Dilbertland that entails counting every part and widget that is ever produced, including those with real life-like dust and dirt! It's a great gig. As a small reward after this week, I told Mrs. Kfred to, "Pack it up, we are going away for the weekend".   I had earlier received a coupon in the mail from one of the hotels I stay at during the year offering a "Buy one night, the second is on Us" promotion.  Drawing on all of my knowledge gained from Dickie the Peap  over the years to recognize a good deal when I see one, I immediately booked my reservations and headed off.  I just hadn't realized how fast the place had declined since I last visited. 

Oh well, it could have been worse.  It could have rained. 

   

Jukebox: Well it's hot somewhere

Another Tour completed

The Lost Reunion Tour II has ended and would have to be deemed as an unqualified success.  Our Tour bus did not break down, the lone scalper attempting to sell knock-off Tour sweater vests was promptly arrested (though, later released as it turns out he was actually paying people to take vests as there was no interest in people really wanting to buy them), and the Rat Bastard reportedly is once again exercising in the neighborhood with no shame or recrimination over his reputation. 

My reunion went off without a hitch. I was able to reconnect with some classmates I literally hadn't seen in over 35 years. It was fun and exciting to see some of my old chums, but honestly, this is probably the last time I attend this sort of event. If I haven't seen these folks after all of these years, we aren't really that close and the folks I have seen more recently, I am not really that close with anyway.

One event that did transpire during our tour is that I did run into a person I knew from 30 years ago when working at another job. They took the time to laboriously tell me how well they had been doing in real estate investment, how many rental houses he had accumulated, that he was his own boss, and drove a convertible--a 7 year old convertible, etc.  I took all of this in stride as it really wasn't meant to "rub it in", but, rather a proud moment for this guy.  That's OK.   I didn't try to trump him with my current status.  After all, I run FTI.  Now that is the pinnacle of success!    

A bit fussy, aren't you?

I am currently bunking with the Rat Bastard G as our room reservation arrangements got mixed up while we are presently conducting the Lost Reunion Tour II. The Rat Bastard is easy to get along with as a roommate, however, as documented here on many occasions, his thought processes and mis-firing of brain synapses are their own case studies worthy of further research.

One interesting event that I helped formulate may, however, serve to confuse this issue just a bit more.   Between our daily performances we both choose to get a bit of morning exercise. This entails a 6 am or so morning walk in the neighborhood of around 2-3 miles to get the day started. Of the 2 days we have done this so far, I have encountered an elderly lady walking her dog. After our first day's walk, we had walked in to 7-11 to get a couple cups of coffee and head back. She looked at the 2 middle aged men in walking shorts and black socks thinking, "here are a couple of queens", and yet, politely said, "that coffee sure looks good". Yesterday morning, we repeat our exercise regimen again, but this time, the Rat Bastard opts out of the coffee and said he is going back. I decide I want coffee, go to 7-11 and figure I will buy the Rat Bastard one anyway, and begin to head back  juggling 2 hot coffees, when I run into her again. This time, she remarks "Where's your other half?" I was put back a bit, but decided that I could cement the Rat Bastard's reputation in the neighborhood by just answering, "Oh, he's waiting for me back at the house".  

As I explained to the Rat Bastard, I don't live in his neighborhood.  He has seen this particular woman on other occasions before and,  from now on, will be viewed as a member of the "diverse" community (not that anything is wrong with that.).    His lady's man reputation has not suffered on bit, except with one little old lady.  And that's Okay.  Maybe he can walk with her later, together.  She with her dog.  The Rat Bastard with his cat.   

Jukebox: Thanks for the VIP Pass Partner; It was a good show

Tour stuff here! Buy a memory of the show!

Atypical of my experience and expectations, I am in the final stages of launching the Lost Reunion Tour II today. Of course, the fact that the idiot Rat Bastard G made a key scheduling error will not deter us from the goal of having some fun. To recount the phone conversation:

RB G: Uh, before you say anything, I have some good news and some bad news.
Me: Uh-huh.
RB G: We're gonna have some more time to bond together.
Me: I don't need any of that. What's the good news?
RB G: Hold it! That is the good news!
Me: What's the bad news?
RB G: The Thorogood show is next week.
Me: You're an idiot.

The Rat Bastard had secured 2 tickets to a George Thorogood show and was planning, I assume, to demonstrate to me his competence and progress in advancing toward his goal of normalcy. After I booked my ticket, after I scheduled my vacation days from Dilbertland, and after I had gotten the green light from Mrs. Kfred to engage in this nonsense, did this key piece of info that the Thorogood show is on the 20th, not the 13th, surface.

On a brighter note, the Rat Bastard did notify me that our two official tour sweater vests did arrive safely and as ordered. Pictured above for your reference, you will note there are no graphics or gaudy printing on the vests. As the tour will only visit one city during one date, the Rat Bastard went ahead and hand-printed the date and city on the back with an indelible Sharpie.

Hey George, I don't need to spend $25 bucks for your lousy concert t-shirt. I have a vest that also looks good with a shirt and tie combo when I go to work. I just have to wear a coat to cover the back of it.

And the ice maker is Free

Wanting to do as much as possible for the local economy, Mrs. Kfred and I did our part yesterday on a lark and decided to spread a few dollars around by making a major purchase. Deciding that these kind of decisions are best made on a whim, we threw all caution to the wind, and decided, "ah, what the hell? Let's do it." Was it something fun, glamorous, and involved tickets to some far off locale? Nope. Something exotic, extravagant, and over the top? Hmm-mm. Ok, maybe something that would be interpreted as a midlife crisis type of issue and involve a new car? Not even close. Our purchase of choice? A refrigerator.

The FTI auxiliary meat-locker/beer cooler located inside the motor pool storage facility here at FTI suddenly met a mysterious demise this past week. I had suspected things were not right during my daily sampling and testing of the grain based sacraments earlier in the week.  Though Germans prefer to consume these sacraments at room temperature, I have never shared that same affinity.  Keeping with FTI tradition of excellence of deep analysis, careful consideration, painstaking research, and exhaustive testing, I realized the warm pickles were probably a good indicator that the 18 year old Amana had given up the ghost. 
Thinking we could probably move forward without an auxiliary  unit, I was quickly and decidedly shown the errors of my thought process by Mrs. Kfred and immediately  headed for Lowes.  Within 10 minutes of entering the store, we became  the proud parents of a healthy, humming, cute Frigidaire. Congratulations. 

Note to Fourth of July picnic guests:  Hope you are recovering from the mysterious stomach ailments.  Since none of you wanted to take it with you, we had to throw out the creme cheesecake.   

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

See you tomorrow.

Never pick on a guy named Ali

If you ever wanted a feel good story, this is it.

I guess reading is not a requirement for this set.

Jukebox: George in a week

Please enter it now

Just a quick observation today:  Efficiency at some organizations never seems to work the way it is planned.   I have a perfect example.

I just got off of the phone with a customer service representative of the investment house where I keep my Roth IRA account. I have been saving throughout the year and made a small deposit  in order to hopefully insure my financial well-being after I retire someday from Dilbertland. (My account is nothing on the massive scale like Dickey the Peap's, but, hopefully it will grow to something large enough to keep the wolf away from the door in my old age. I would be happy with a simple 1/10 of the little miser's worth.)

Anyways, as I call them, I am instructed to "please enter your account number" into the phone so they may access my records. I dutifully perform that task and then am informed that "all client service representatives are busy with other callers and my call will be answered in the order of which it was received." OK, I can hang out for a few seconds. Sure enough, the guy then gets on the phone and asks me for my account number.   I already gave it to you! Why are you asking for it again?

It's really no big deal in the end; certainly nothing to get grumpy with the person on the other end of the line with whom you are trying to get assistance.  I give him my account number, he confirms my social security number, I get my problem resolved, and that is the end of it.  I do not understand his step of the process if it isn't going to be used during the process.  I have, however, decided to use it as an assistance tool whenever I get service issue calls from any of the Misfits here at FTI.  Upon calling, they are instructed to identify their particular FTI classification in order to best meet their needs.  Push  1 for Idiot, 2 for Numb-o, or 3 for Stooge.  Of course, all of their calls are ignored.   

It makes us much more efficient. 
 

    

Have a Happy Fourth

We're drinking beer and having a good time today.  We'll be back tomorrow. 

It's Sunday before the Fourth

Hey c'mon, it's the Sunday before the Fourth and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again Tuesday as we are celebrating the Fourth as well with a bunch of beer. See you then.

Dial 911 only in emergencies

I enjoyed a lunch and a game of golf with Dickey the Peap the other day. And, of course, I paid. To be accurate, I paid for lunch and the beer on the course. The little miser did claim to pay for my greens fees, but, I do suspect he probably browbeat the guy in the proshop so much that he let two of us play for the price of one just to get rid of him. Regardless, we played a round of golf and had an enjoyable afternoon.

During our play, Dickey did relate a story to me that I found to be very ironic. He and Mrs. Peap are doing some updating in their own home and were collecting bids for some new shades and window treatment accessories. A woman from a national chain store came to their house, did the appropriate measurements, and gave them a bid of well over $10K to do the various windows. Obviously, the poor woman didn't know whom she was dealing with and immediately suspected a medical case as the frugal one immediately developed profuse sweating, rapid heart beat, and shortness of breath. Suspecting an imminent heart attack, she immediately dialed 911 to summon medical assistance as she was sure our boy was going to die as he couldn't speak or make any coherent sense while trying to communicate and then suddenly passed out. Upon examination by emergency medical personnel, it was determined to be another  false alarm and nothing more than a good scare. The medical professionals on the scene noted in their call logs that this was another response to this same address as the countless ones performed before.  As a result, they have made a note  for use by the dispatchers when concerning any future emergency calls at this location:  AMMONIA CAPSULES USELESS WHEN USED TO REVIVE PATIENT;  PATIENT INSTANTANEOUSLY RESPONDS TO ROLLED DOLLAR BILLS , INSTEAD.  SUGGEST PERSONNEL FIRST STOP AT BANK WHEN RESPONDING TO THIS LOCATION.

Jukebox: OK, it's Disco; but, it's good Disco